


Night Secrets

by bittenfeld



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ( oh and did I mention Sam-abuse and TONS of Dean-abuse??), Angst, Beating, Bloody Kisses, Bondage, Brotherly Love, Brutality, Dean-abuse, Demon Sex, Graphic Sex, M/M, Male Slash, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sam-abuse, Violence, Wincest - Freeform, demon, sodomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:17:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1266241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New addition– Final - chapter 8:  Sam exorcised the demon by announcing to it that he and Dean were lovers.  So now Dean wonders… did Sam just say that to get rid of the incubus… or just possibly… did he really mean it…??</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_jaded heart,_

_you look but don’t see,_

_love in front of you,_

_you can’t believe._

_jaded heart,_

_love can’t get to you_

_to bring your heart to me_

 

It’s a rainy evening.

The guys are staying in a one-room cabin up in the Klamath Forest in northern California, relaxing and recharging. Partly because they needed a vacation, and partly because it’s been pouring rain for five days straight. Mudslides and downed redwood trees have blocked numerous roads – including the two near highways, State 299 and State 96 – isolating them and the rest of the area’s inhabitants. The nearest stop-in-the-road – no more than a gas station, grocery store, and diner / country-western bar – is twenty miles away, via old logging roads and local byways.

Dean went into town for groceries a little while ago, and isn’t back yet.

Standing between the two double-beds in the alcove off the sitting area, Sam is staring out the window at the grey drizzle. Mist-shrouded conifers cover hill-beyond-hill-beyond-hill, without a sign of human habitation, as far as the eye can see. Through the overcast, a few dying rays of sunlight cast a strange pale yellow glow, lending the landscape a mystical dream-like quality.

Sam’s 9-mm nickel-plated Ruger and Dean’s Colt revolver are lying on the kitchenette counter, cleaned and reloaded. Their gear has been checked and repaired and restocked. Three shotguns reloaded with rock-salt. Sickles and knives sharpened. Several dozen silver slugs cooling in molds on the dinette table. A gallon of water set aside in a large crystal bowl, being sanctified by salt and a silver cross.

In the previous five weeks, they’d been on seven hunts, back-to-back, without a break. A poltergeist in Tucson, another in Los Angeles. A demon cat-shadow, three times the size of a cougar and hungry for blood, prowling the canyon narrows around Kolob, Utah. That job had taken a whole week by itself, and landed them both in the emergency room at St. George General, gashed up from a purported ‘bobcat’ attack.

They checked out two haunted houses – one in Gunnison, Colorado that was real, another in Mesquite, Nevada that turned out to be a high-schoolers’ prank. They sabotaged a black Sabbath in the Bear Creek area of New Mexico, near Piños Altos.

A grandmother, living alone up on Buck Mountain above the tiny town of Covalo in Northern California, and wondering if her long-deceased husband wasn’t quite so long-dead, had called them because of scratching in the attic and flickering lights in the living room. They discovered squirrels in the attic and loose circuit breakers in her electric box. They chased out the squirrels, tightened her circuit breakers, and while they were at it, swept out her rain gutters, nailed up some broken fence-boards, and re-staked her tomatoes. For their labors, they were rewarded with a belly-filling home-cooked dinner, and apple-pie-from-scratch for the road.

Later Dean had commented that if hunting ever got slow, they could always hire out to little old ladies in need. Sam had queried, “not hot chicks in need?” Dean had just shrugged and admitted, “yeah well, there’s more to life than just hot sex.” To which Sam had retorted under his breath, “Now I _know_ my brother is a pod-person.”

Now, although the respite had been necessary and welcomed, both of them are bored with the inactivity, restless, and eager to get back on the road again.

If only the weather would coöperate.  
* * *

A veil of silver rain spatters across the beams of the Chevy’s headlights. In the last rays of twilight, the black ‘67 Impala has the road to itself, with the perfume of pine and sage hanging heavy in the wet air, and light fog swirling in through the tree branches, drifting like will-o’-wisps over the road.

Negotiating puddles and mud washes on the tiny winding road between the store and their cabin, Dean is rockin’ with Dokken on the radio oldies station, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on one thigh tapping along with the music, while the windshield wipers click the counter-beat:

_toss and turn all night in the sheets,_

_I can’t sleep_

_night after night, don’t know what it means_

_in my dreams_

_calling your name, but you’re turning away_

_please don’t leave_

_running in circles, waiting to see you_

_In my dreams_

In the twilight mist, light-motes of pleasant fantasies dance through Dean’s thoughts, the same fantasies that always hover near the edges of his mind, teasing and beckoning – images of thick gold-shot brown hair, twinkling mischievous grey-green eyes, long sexy legs that won’t quit, and a luscious mouth whispering faint promises and pleadings.

With a little smile, Dean lets himself imagine that sweet mouth doing so much more. The hand on his thigh strokes an inch higher, gives a little squeeze; and of their own accord, his hips rise a fraction against the seat belt.

“Dean,” the voice whispers, “take me now… please…!” And suddenly it’s right in his ear right now, real and clear. With a startled jerk, Dean snaps back to reality, only to find the car drifting toward a low mud-bank, and slams on the brakes.  
* * *

Sam has checked the cooling silver slugs again, and set out the rest of the reloading equipment on the table. As soon as they’re ready, he’ll reload the shells and consecrate them, then sanctify several more gallons of holy water, before calling it an early night.

In the meantime, he’s studying another few pages in an ancient exorcism text, _Expulsio Daemonorum_. The more he can commit to memory, the more efficient he’ll be in emergency situations when there’s no time to reach for a book.

Dean ought to be back by now – unless more uprooted trees have made the roads impassable, in which case he would have phoned. Or unless he discovered some cute stock clerk at the store and turned on all the charm – in which case he won’t be back until morning.

There’s a footstep on the wooden porch, and the door opens. It’s Dean. He walks in empty-handed, and soaked to the gills. “Man, it’s frickin’ wet out there…!”

“Don’t tell me – the check-out clerk’s quarterback boyfriend showed up, just when you were reeling out your best line.”

“Huh? what?” Dean grunts blankly.

“Where’s the groceries?” Sam inquires, laying the book aside and rising from his chair. “For that matter, where’s the car? – I didn’t hear you drive up.”

Glowering at no one in particular, Dean wipes his wet face with a wet jacket sleeve. “I never made it to the store – the damn car ran off the road.”

“Were you in an accident? Is the car okay?”

“You ask about the car, not if I’m okay. Gee, thanks. Yeah, the car’s fine and so am I. I hit a frickin’ puddle and slid onto the shoulder about four miles down the road… Damn frickin’ rain…!”

“Well, why didn’t you just call for a tow – or call me?”

“Because when I was starting to, I also managed to drop the damn phone in the damn fuckin’ mud!”

Sam grins. Dean glares. “That’s not funny.”

Sam tries to suppress it. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

Sam smiles sympathetically. “Weather report says the rain’s supposed to let up tonight. We can go back in the morning and push the car back onto the road.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

As they’re talking, Dean removes his dripping coat, hangs it up, and opens his shirt part-way. He grabs the towel on a hook at the edge of the breakfast counter, and turning toward Sam, wipes his face again and starts to dry off.

And suddenly, out of nowhere, Sam finds himself acutely aware of tight clinging wet jeans and long lean thighs. The misty twilight glow from the window reflects a faint silver aura about the man’s form, and Sam is transfixed by a glistening water droplet trickling down Dean’s sternum.

Abruptly he shakes his head with a frown, startled and disconcerted. Where did _that_ come from?

Raising his arms, Dean towels back his short hair, and Sam hungrily eyes the strong sensual lines of vein-ridged forearms, muscular torso, lean waist, tight ass. He licks dry lips. A sudden powerful surge of need swells cock and balls. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t seem to help himself. This is exceedingly strange. Even stranger is that Dean seems to be watching him for his reaction, as he dries off almost slowly, sensually – but surely that’s got to be just Sam’s imagination.

Embarrassedly, Sam realizes he’s gawking, and turns away. But when he looks back, Dean is right there, close enough for Sam to feel his breath.

“What is it?” Dean asks, eyes focussed on Sam’s lips, and unlike Sam, not trying to hide it.

“Uh, nothing,” Sam grins, a little self-consciously, fighting this intense sexual arousal. He tries to take a step back to put some space between them, but his legs won’t obey. He’s never felt like this about his brother before – or any other man, for that matter. He doesn’t even want to. Yet Dean’s large grey penetrating gaze and full sensual lips entrance him, and he very nearly gives in to the compelling demand to kiss the other man and drag him down to the floor right then and there.

“Nothing, huh?” And Dean’s hip presses up gently but oh-so-sensually against Sam’s hardening erection. He smiles, a tiny inviting smile. “Feels like something to me, dude.”

Sam’s knees go weak – what _is_ this? – “Uh… god, Dean…” He blushes hotly. A bubble of pre-sem leaks into his undershorts. He can hardly think straight. “Uh, must be cabin fever… Yeah, we’ve been cooped up here too long…” – a tiny nervous chuckle escapes his lips – “even you’re starting to look good to me…”

Dean drops the towel. His shirt is all the way open, jeans riding low on his hips. “Well, you’re lookin’ good to me too, so, uh, why don’t we do something about it, then? I mean, it’s not like anyone’s gonna walk in on us…” Slowly his eyes rake over the taller man’s body, up and down, burning their way, reflecting a silver gleam from the watery sky outside.

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” Sam retorts nervously. “We’re brothers. What are you doing?” Yet he can’t seem to fight it – doesn’t even want to fight it.

“What am _I_ doing?” Dean tosses back. “Look at you. You’re begging for it… little brother.”

“What…? No…” Yet limply Sam allows Dean to maneuver him backward into the sleeping alcove, until the backs of his legs bump a mattress. He swallows past a lump in his throat. “You were… worried about the car – what suddenly… got you off on this?”

“What I’d like to get off on, is you.”

Sam stares at his brother. “Dean, no… what’s going on?” But Dean just pushes him down onto the bed, opens his over-shirt, and shoves up the t-shirt, caressing all the way. And all further questions wisp away like candle-smoke to nothingness. “… oh god Dean…”

The exploring fingers burn exquisitely. It’s been a long time since he’s been touched like this. Not since Jessica…. Responsively his testicles twitch in their sac, craving to be fondled as well – _where_ did _these sudden feelings come from?_ – “Dean, um…” – brain starting to shut down – “…uh, we really shouldn’t be doing this…” – yet if Dean were to stop right now, Sam thought he might just lose it.

Dean ignores him, stroking a firm hand down Sam’s flank, bending down to lavish wet kisses on Sam’s chest, making Sam’s breathing hitch. “Why not? You want it… I want it… we’re alone… who’s to know?” As he tongues hard little nipples, Sam winces in delicious torment.

“But I thought… you liked girls…”

“I do,” Dean admits easily. A long lick up the neck muscle ridge, all the way up to soft parted lips. “But I like you better.” Voraciously he attacks the luscious mouth with hard relentless kissing and tonguing. Then barely interrupting the caresses, he undresses them both. Clothes scatter on the pine floor. “God, Sammy, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

Sam opens up to the invasion, enveloped in sensuality and massive need that he wasn’t even aware he had, as they roll and twine together on the bed, kisses hot and desperate, hands frantic, cocks throbbing with need. Even thoughts of Jessica retreat and pale in the distance. He’s about ready to explode, and very shortly does in Dean’s hand, after which he collapses weakly, muscles limp, trembling, panting with exhaustion.

Slowly, erotically, Dean licks some of the cum from his hand, then smears the rest on Sam’s face, has Sam suck his fingers. “That’s a good boy,” Dean coos. “That’s a real good boy.”

Now Dean gets more intense. “Now it’s my turn.” Peremptorily he rolls Sam over onto his stomach, bends the younger man’s knees to raise his ass up high, then without any warning or preparation, penetrates deep, hard. Sam cries out in surprise and pain.

“Dean, that hurts…”

“Yeah, but you love it, don’t you?”

The older man is ravishing him, pumping in a rough sweaty pounding rhythm. The last of the watery grey twilight reflects a strange surreality in the room, and Sam almost feels like they’re slipping into an altered state.

“Dean, wait…” he begs breathlessly.

“I can’t, Sammy.”

Sam is almost too limp to move. “Dean…”

As Dean is working to climax, footsteps sound on the front porch.

In alarm, Sam weakly half-rises, but Dean just slams him back on the bed, and continues working. Sam tries to fend him off. “Someone’s out there… Dean, we’ve got to…” he tries to plead, turning his head toward the sound of the door opening. Who the hell would just walk into their cabin? Sam struggles beneath Dean’s weight. Why won’t he stop? “Dean…!” Yet the post-coital fatigue has nearly claimed all of Sam’s strength, almost like drug-dopiness.

A man enters, shaking the rain off. “Man, it’s frickin’ wet out there…!” It’s Dean, carrying two plastic sacks of groceries. “Damn car ran off the damn road!” he complains, snapping on the light-switch at the door, then depositing the wet bags on the table. "And of course I also managed to drop the damn phone in the damn fuckin’ mud!” At first he doesn’t see the couple in the dimness of the back alcove. “Yo, Sammy!”

From his helpless position, Sam gasps horrified shock, and in a delayed moment, the newcomer turns toward the sound.

“ _Sammy_??!!”

 * * * * *

_to be continued…_

acknowledgements: _“Jaded Heart”_

_“In My Dreams”_

_– Dokken, Under Lock and Key   (1985)_

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New upload: chapter 2 – Dean gets to find out – quite painfully – who (or more precisely, what) was taking his place with Sam… while Sam is so devastated with shame that he can hardly bear Dean's presence.

 “ _Sammy_?!” For a split second, Dean’s brain can’t register if the figure hunched over Sam is having sex with him or trying to kill him. “Hey, what the…!”

Smoothly, the man screwing Sam – this twin of Dean’s – slides off Sam’s body, then strolls toward Dean, not at all taken off-guard. He’s nude, with a massive erection dripping juices, yet he shows not the least embarrassment.

Dean sees the revolver on the breakfast counter, makes a rush for it.

Simultaneously there’s a shimmer of silver, and the figure is suddenly up close to Dean, between him and the gun. Effortlessly his twin slams him against a wall, and pins him there with magical force, looks him over sensually.

“Well, you made it back sooner than I expected,” a calm, slightly mocking voice notes.

Now, in the light, Dean’s expression shifts to stunned disbelief at the bizarre vision of this doppelgänger – “What the hell…!” – then to horror and anger, mixed with dread, as he glances at Sam’s limp motionless form on the bed. “What have you done to my brother?! Sam, are you okay? Are you alive? Talk to me!”

“I’m… alive…” the younger man slurs breathlessly.

Struggling desperately, Dean glowers at his captor.

A hand caresses his hair. “I knew you’d be late getting home… and your pretty boyfriend would be lonely. So I came to keep him company.”

Dean jerks, eyes bright and sharp. “What the hell are you talking about? What kind of fucking demon are you?”

“That’s exactly what I am,” the duplicate smiles, yanking a fistful of hair at the back of Dean’s head, and leaning in for a deep tonguing kiss, while reaching down to grope Dean through his jeans. The scent of sex is obvious, powerful, and Dean feels desire course through his genitals. He can’t help it as his cock and balls swell hard. Brutally he fights the arousal down.

He tries to pull his head away, tries to struggle, but his body will hardly respond. The demon tongues his ear deliciously, causing Dean to cringe.

“And what I’m talking about is that hot little fantasy that distracted you so much, you ran off the road. That was too easy.”

At that, Dean stiffens sharply and writhes harder. “What?… no!…”, furious, sick with disgust, as well as massively embarrassed to be felt up by “himself”.

The demon grins. “I know exactly how _we_ like it…” and pushes his hand deeper between Dean’s legs.

Dean just snarls, trying to break free, even though his struggling only lifts his package even more firmly into the man’s rubbing squeezing hand, and he finds his body hungrily starting to masturbate in the massaging grip.

“Or maybe,” the demon suggests slyly, “you’d like it even better this way…” And in another silvery sparkle-shower, he morphs into Sam’s nude form, smiling directly into Dean’s angry gaze, even as he massages more thoroughly, long lean body pressed up sensually against Dean’s.

Dean stares in sudden shock at this obscene version of his brother, turns his head away, eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge the grotesquery. Even so, another hot surge rises in his cock and a jolt of semen spurts out. Bluntly he tries to quell the desperate massive need. “Damn bastard! let go of me!” And shifting his focus coldly, he demands through his teeth of his real brother slumped across the room, “Sam, talk to me!”

“Dean, help…” is all Sam can manage.

The demon answers as well, “But I’m right here, big brother,” and punctuates the gentle pronouncement with a not-so-gentle squeeze to Dean’s hot flesh. “Don’t look over there.”

Erotic pain flashes straight up into Dean’s solar plexus. Another spurt of warm fluid in his shorts. The sensuality and the image of Sam is sexually hypnotic, and Dean’s body craves it, begs to give in. Instead, fighting his body’s hunger as hard as he can, he snarls brusquely, “You’re not my brother, you piece of shit! Get the fuck out of here!”

Silver eyes flash, a wet tongue slides over white teeth suggestively, then licks the side of Dean’s face. “Mm, I love it when you talk like that, big brother….” Nevertheless, the demon lowers the intensity, obligingly lets go and backs off. “Very well, I’ll return later, when you’re more… receptive… I promise we’ll make a night of it…”

“Well, we’ll be fucking waiting for you!” Dean promises furiously. The demon vanishes, and the magical paralysis holding Dean releases. Dean slumps, gasping for breath and trying to ignore the hot desperate ache between his legs, and the warm sticky dampness in his shorts.

He rushes over to Sam, snaps on the light in the alcove. Quiet tears leak from the younger man’s eyes. Worriedly Dean looks over his brother’s naked body, searching for sign of injury, concerned about the dribbles of blood smeared between his abrased buttocks. But Sam is only aware of his shame, and awkwardly tries to cover himself with the sheet, face turned away from Dean. When Dean lays a hand on his shoulder, Sam flinches away.

“It was an incubus,” Sam murmurs the obvious.

“I know,” Dean assures.

Sam doesn’t want his brother to see the evidence of his smeared cum, doesn’t want Dean to know that he had enjoyed it with someone who he thought was Dean. Besides, he can hardly stay awake, he’s so exhausted.

Dean urges him not to go to sleep, because the demon can come back then. He doesn’t say so, but he’s also worried that Sam may die if the demon absorbed too much of his life-strength during the sex. Sam is aware of that as well, but he’s so weak.

Dean gets an idea, goes into the little kitchen nook to fix a cup of coffee, talking to Sam all the while, and insisting that Sam stay alert enough to answer. He brings the cup over to Sam, urges him to drink, says it’s a special brew, and it’ll wake him up, put hair on his chest.

“Quadruple espresso?” Sam manages sleepily.

“Somethin’ like that,” Dean agrees. “Now, c’mon, drink.” He helps Sam raise his head, gives him a sip.

The effect is electric: a blue flash of mystical lightning like a shock wave washes through Sam’s body, and instantly he snaps back to life, color and vitality restored.

“You used holy water,” Sam accuses in wonderment.

Dean is grinning humorlessly. “Yep. Does wonders for the constitution. C’mon, drink some more. We wanna make sure that bastard’s energy is completely neutralized. C’mon, drink up.”

Sam does, and although it doesn’t shock him like that initial jolt, a pale blue aura suffuses his body, then gently fades.

He hands the cup back.

“You okay now?” Dean queries.

Sam is alert. “Yeah. Man, what made you think to do that? How’d you know it wasn’t going to kill me since there was demon… residue… in me?”

“I didn’t… for sure.” At Sam’s accusing glare, Dean answers, “Because Dad tried it on me coupla years ago. I got bitten by a vampire,” – Sam frowns, “ – It only sucked maybe a drop or two, before Dad nailed it. But he needed to counteract any chance the bastard might have infected me. Man, I could’ve sworn he gave it to me full strength, ‘cause I don’t think I slept for a week.”

“And you don’t feel any urge to go alley-crawling at night? No fang-marks on your neck?”

“Not a bit.” Dean tilts his head to expose an unmarked neck. “How about you? You still feel any…thing strange?”

“No,” Sam closes his eyes. “It’s gone.”

“Good,” Dean retorts.

Sam draws a trembling breath. “You saw… what I was… doing… with him…”

Dean’s eyes narrow intently. “What I saw, was a demon attacking my brother. And that’s _all_ I saw.”

Sam frowns, lips tightened, distress moistening his eyes. “But… what we did… I… uh…”

“Sam. Don’t make it into any more that it was. He’s an incubus. He attacked you sexually – physically _and_ mentally. That’s what they do.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Dean hovers over him. “Listen, do you need a doctor, are you hurt?”

Sam just grunts, “I’ll survive – I don’t need a doctor.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Yeah, you can leave me alone.”

Dean pulls back.

Sam half-apologizes. “I don’t need anything right now… just leave me alone… please.” He sits up, slips his feet to the floor, the sheet drawn over his lap. “What I need is a shower.” Dean is staring at him intently, and the déjà vu makes Sam’s skin twitch, as though in another moment, Dean is going to pull him back down onto the bed and molest him again.

“Don’t look at me,” he snaps.

Dean blinks, then abruptly gets up and goes back to the kitchen, busies himself putting the groceries away.

* * * * *

_to be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story was conceived before I saw the Supernatural episode, “Skin”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is feeling horribly guilty about fantasizing about his brother, and yet the sight of the demon raping Sam continues to play in his mind, leaving him hard and aching, until he can’t ignore it any longer, and has to take matters into his own hand…

After Sam showers and dresses, they are sitting at the table, wondering where the thing came from, and what to do about it.

Dean would not know that Sam had come – he hadn't seen Sam enjoying it and climaxing. He would probably assume it was all the demon’s ejaculate, that Sam had just been a victim of rape.

He feels awful because he’d been fantasizing about doing it with Sam, then actually seeing his doppelgänger doing it. (Of course Sam doesn’t know anything about Dean’s fantasies, except what the incubus had alluded to – and Sam was probably too far out of it at the time to fully comprehend the demon’s comment.) But also because he’s sure that Sam will associate the thing with him. Sam assures him that he doesn’t, but of course subconsciously he could hardly help it, either thinking of Dean as his rapist, or even a stronger feeling of being embarrassed at having had an illicit – and intensely pleasurable – interlude with his ‘brother’.

Sam is not talking much, sullen, maybe starts reloading the shells.

Dean furiously want to rip the thing’s balls off – at the same time he’s more and more concerned (although he doesn’t say this aloud) that his fantasizing drew the thing to Sam. Or that somehow he accidentally created a ‘thought-form’ which acted out his desires with Sam. Which leads to an even more deeply disturbing suggestion – does he subconsciously want to rape Sam, get pleasure from abusing him? – no, of course not, he won’t even let himself consider that.

* * *

As a precaution, they salt the doorway and the windows, and even encircle their beds. But it doesn’t prevent the creature from entering and coming to them in sleep.

Sam’s moaning wakes Dean up, and he can smell the thing’s scent, and he knows it’s in the room hovering over Sam’s bed. He snaps on the bedside lamp, and yells to wake Sam up. The demon is in Dean’s form again, caressing Sam’s sensually squirming body.

Dean has kept a gun nearby loaded with silver bullets, just for such an exigency, and shoots at it. In a silver flash, the demon jerks with the impact, but doesn’t die. Instead, it just stands there, looking directly at Dean. Then with a contemptuous smile, it effortlessly pushes a hand through its chest, draws out the bullets and drops them on the floor, then dematerializes in a silver sparkle.

Luckily this time it hadn't gotten as far with Sam, so Sam is not so weak. He sits up on the edge of the bed, then leans down to pick up the slugs off the floor. Dean is swearing, furious that the demon got away, unable to believe the bullets didn’t work, because he obviously hit the thing point-blank in the chest. Sam comments, “Well, maybe it would have helped if you’d actually remembered to load _silver_ bullets.”

“What the hell do you mean?” Dean snaps. “I did!”

Sam holds out his hand. The slugs are lead.

“Fuck!” Dean mutters angrily.

 * * *

Another night, they’re in their beds. Dean is thinking about Sam and feeling horribly guilty because, contrary to what he had assured Sam, he _had_ seen the sexuality of the scene on Sam’s bed, that first time, of Sam’s ass in the air, of his own twin screwing that ass hard and sweaty and rough. And it was like watching himself doing it, like standing outside his own body, it was like _he_ was doing it, taking that pretty ass as hard as he could. And it’s so hot and so good, gripping Sam’s hips and ramming and ramming into that tight wet channel despite his brother’s pleas and protestations… he’s wanted this for so long, and it’s so _very_ good…

 _No!_ – he isn’t supposed to like that, to see his brother helpless, to want him in submission, taking whatever Dean wants to do to him. Yet it’s giving Dean a hard-on he can’t fight down. Sam, with face buried between forearms, knees spread, semen and blood dribbling from his anus, dripping down the underside of his dangling balls – god, the crude erotic image nearly makes Dean come right then… oh man he isn’t supposed to be thinking these thoughts, but the image is so hot and so compelling he can’t help himself.

Right now his own balls are aching so bad he just has to take care of business. But he doesn’t want Sam to see him in this state, and he definitely doesn’t want Sam to see or hear him jerk off. He’ll go outside and do it quickly in the shadows, and that will take care of the matter.

Outside, in the dark, the rain has finally let up to no more than a spitting drizzle. A short distance from the cabin, he leans back against a tree, and reaches through the fly of his pajama shorts to pull out his equipment.

He starts working himself, and it’s good. He’s getting harder and harder, yet he isn’t coming as soon as he thought he would. He’s so hot, he should have orgasmed just by barely touching himself. More vigorously he tugs his cock, squeezes and kneads his balls, frictioning as fast as he can. Lightning jolts of pleasure tingle all over his skin, up and down his very core. It’s so good, yet climax seems as far away as ever.

Sam comes out, and catches him. At first Dean says he was just taking a leak, but Sam says, “No, I saw you. I know what you’re doing.” So Dean admits he was jerking off, but insists he was fantasizing about a girl.

“No offense, Sam, but you hangin’ around every day kind of puts a crimp in my social calendar.”

Sam says it wasn’t about a girl – it was about him, which Dean adamantly denies. “C’mon, Dean,” Sam insists. “You know I’m psychic. Don’t lie to me. I was raped, and you’re jerking off over it – that’s the most disgusting thing I ever heard!”

Dean doesn’t know what to say. “Sam…”

Suddenly a gunshot explodes, a blinding flash. Sam stiffens, shot from behind.

Abruptly Dean jerks awake in bed, ears ringing, retinas aching with the white flash, nostrils stinging from the acrid tinge of burnt gunpowder.

One form of Sam stands twisted beside his bed dematerializing in a silver sparkle, while another lies in the other bed, propped up on one elbow, holding a smoking **.** 45 .

Sam snaps on the bedside lamp.

Dean is embarrassed, furious with himself for falling under the incubus’ spell.

This time Sam knows that the bullets were silver. But again it hasn’t killed the thing; the demon just dematerialized quickly.

“Well you must have missed,” Dean notes, still painfully hard and hot.

“I didn’t miss,” Sam insists.

Dean hadn't been able to come yet, not in the dream, not in reality. And he notes abashedly that even the idea of Sam catching him hadn't caused him to lose his erection – even though it should have, like a splash of ice water. He excuses himself to the bathroom to finish business.

Of course, he should have realized the situation was not real – and had he been awake, he definitely would have. For one thing, the moon had set by now, so it’s nearly pitch-black outside – too dark to have seen anything clearly. And for another, although Sam has some psychic ability to receive premonitions and to sense things, he can’t read thoughts that specifically.

The incubus has taken a dislike to Dean – probably because Dean (unwittingly) hampered its first attempt at seducing him in the car, then prevented it twice from taking Sam. So when it gets into Dean’s dreams, instead of seducing him sweetly, it torments him by playing on his guilt, and by not allowing him to come – it deliberately gets him to the brink, but prevents him from going over, leaving him aching hard.

 * * * * *

_to be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The demon finally reveals his true form to Sam and Dean, and reveals, as well, intimate private secrets about both of them. They try to fight it, but not a single weapon in their arsenal works against it, as it brutally takes advantage of them.

So far, the demon has just shown up in the evening or at night. They’ll try sleeping during the day, and only one will sleep at a time, so the other can keep watch. They can’t keep using the holy-water coffee, as it would ultimately burn their bodies out with ethereal fire. Plus, Sam notes as an aside that the holy water in their veins should prevent the demon from taking them, but doesn’t.

They also search for an exorcism or other plan that might work, since the bullets don’t.

So the next time when it comes, they’re ready. It materializes over Dean’s bed again as Sam.

Sam calls to the demon, “Hey, bastard, I’m over here!”, grabs the book and pronounces the exorcism. It catches the demon’s attention and seems to amuse him, yet doesn’t destroy him.

“So, you’re familiar with Latin,” he teases. “I’m impressed.” Then knocking the book from Sam’s hands, he slams Sam roughly against a wall, pins him magically. Dean thrusts a silver cross in his face. That too makes the demon grin. Instead of it burning him, he just grabs hold of Dean’s hand holding the cross, in a painful grip that makes Dean wince and grit his teeth. A silver flash lights the demon’s flaring eyes, then he lets go, hurls Dean against the wall beside Sam.

Abruptly Dean drops the cross heavily. Sam and Dean stare at it on the floor in disbelief.

The cross has transmuted into lead.

The demon is smiling. “You pompous little humans. Pathetic little fools! You don’t even know who you’re dealing with!”

They look up, and their eyes go wide.

The demon is in his real form now: powerful and inhuman, yet almost surrealistically beautiful, and far more seductive than any human form he might take. He is the embodiment of sensuality. Around seven feet tall, flowing silver hair framing an elegant high-cheeked face and floating all the way down below his waist, genitals larger than a human’s – and the sight whispers a cold tingle over Sam and Dean, realizing that penetration will tear them. Tilted almond-shaped eyes, glowing silver from within, lips full and sensual. Skin translucent white, long-fingered elegant hands, with nails that might be claws. Whatever unsuspecting humans from long ago who might have crossed his path, quite probably would have worshipped him as an angel or a god – little realizing they would be worshipping an entity of death.

Both Sam and Dean are captivated, nearly hypnotized, until with every ounce of strength they can muster, they’re able to shake themselves out of it. Sam particularly can hardly fight it, tugging at his bonds as though he wants to actually go to their abuser and submit willingly – Dean has to yell at him not to fall into its trance.

“So… you can see me as I really am,” the demon notes. “And you’re actually able to resist me. Interesting. Your crosses and spell-books – you seem prepared to do battle with beings from other realms. I haven’t come across humans like you for years – centuries. Are you priests, or perhaps monks?”

“No,” Dean retorts, teeth clenched, barely holding his own against the compelling magnetism, and fighting down a massive erection. “We’re just your average everyday neighborhood ghost-busters. We send evil bastards like you to hell.”

The demon responds with curiosity. “Evil? Because I kill in order to eat? Humans kill to eat every day – don’t act so righteous. At least my… patrons… die happy.”

“We’ll kill you, you sonofabitch!” Sam promises, having just as much trouble with the heavy swelling in his undershorts.

At that the demon laughs, completely ignoring their priapism. “Kill me? You think so? I’m still here. Your crosses and exorcisms and silver bullets are useless. Since I came here, no one has been able to interfere with me.” He turns serious once again. “The supreme audacity of humans, to feel the need to kill anything that is different. You vain little insects! Of all reality, humans occupy a microscopic part. Yet they think the entire universe was created for them alone. Such utter conceit!” The demon steps closer to them. “The truth is, you are little more than toys, to be used and thrown away.”

Dean glares, “You shit…!” – _god he needs to come so bad!_ …

“But you two are quite fascinating little play-things. That you can even try to resist delights me. I haven’t had such sport in ages. I shall keep you alive for awhile, and enjoy each of our… trysts. You are both quite delectable – indeed it is you who have captivated me. Your passions for each other, yearnings unrequited, stir my blood.”

Sam stiffens. “Yearnings unrequi…what the hell are you talking about ?!”

“Why don’t you ask your brother? When I take your bodies, I take your minds as well. I know what you think, what you crave.” In a silver shimmer he shifts back into Sam’s form, then moves closer to Dean. “You want your sweet brother… you hunger for him desperately.”

Anger twists Dean’s face – anger and something else, a nervous tension. “That’s a fucking lie!” he snaps.

The creature smiles. “You and I both know it isn’t. You crave him, but you think if he ever found out, he would hate you forever. So you keep it locked away, never to reveal it.”

“No! You’re talkin’ crazy!”

Lips murmur low close to his ear, yet still loud enough for Sam to hear. “However, did you know that he is feeling the same for you as well? He would gladly share your bed.”

“That’s not true!” Sam counters.

“You bastard, stop talking this shit!” Dean shoots a taut glance over at Sam, who is frowning intently at their intruder, his own doppelgänger.

The younger man’s eyes are moist – with pain? fury? frustration?

The demon with Sam’s visage reaches up a hand to stroke the side of Dean’s face, as he smiles one of Sam’s smiles. “You should appreciate my talents. In a way, I’m allowing you both to act out your desires with each other. I’m only doing to him what you want to do, if you ever got the chance.”

“You goddamn liar!” Dean curses angrily. “Fucking rapist! I’d never do anything against his will!”

At that, Sam’s attention shifts curiously to his brother.  _Against his will_? 

* * * * *

_to be continued…_

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean had told the demon that he’d never do anything like that to Sam against Sam’s will… but now Sam begins to wonder, does that mean Dean would like to have sex with him, if Sam agreed? The demon said that Dean had erotic thoughts about him – but was the demon telling the truth?

Sam is continuing to feel more and more uptight around Dean, as the thing keeps coming to him as his brother, and causing a bodily response, and especially after that discussion. It’s getting to the point that he hardly talks to him or acknowledges him, except to succinctly talk business.

Finally Dean calmly confronts him.

“Look, dude, it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you for a second. All that shit-talk that thing gave us – you and I both know it’s not true. I know you don’t really feel that way about me. The demon is manipulating you, making you think what he wants you to think. He feeds off a person’s sexual thoughts and energy – ”

“I know how an incubus works, Dean,” Sam interrupts brusquely, still upset.

Dean nods acknowledgement. “Then you know I’m tellin’ the truth.”

Sam shrugs, nods noncommittally.

Then after a brief lull, he asks pointedly, “What he said about you – is that the truth, Dean?”

Dean snaps to sharp attention. “What are you talking about? Of course not. I just said – ”

“You gotta tell me the truth, Dean. Do you… feel that way… about me?”

“What the hell brought that up?” Dean glowers. “I just told you the truth. No – of course I don’t! What’s gotten into you? That’s sick! Why would you even ask that?”

“Because…” Sam just shakes his head, looking disturbed.

In irritation, Dean tosses back sharply, “Look, why even bother to ask for the truth, if you aren’t gonna believe it?”

“Dean, we need to talk about this.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Dean throws up his hands in exasperation. “Oh, this is sweet. I look after you, I take care of you, and this is how you repay me. Y’know, when I first came across you and that… thing… doing each other, all hot and heavy, I let you know right away that I knew you didn’t really feel that way. And every filthy… insinuation… that it makes about you, I back you up, I tell that freakin’ bastard that I don’t believe ‘em, not even for an instant! But now, here you are, actually listening to what that freak says about me, and wondering if it’s true. Hell, you can’t even afford me the same respect and courtesy that I show you! Thanks a lot… brother!”

“Dean, it’s not like that…”

“Have I ever said anything, or suggested anything like I was into you?”

“No.”

“Or have I ever watched you when you… showered… or jerked off… or anything?”

“I don’t think so.”

“The answer’s ‘no’, Sam! Look, if you’re worried that I have… ‘dirty thoughts’ about you, from now on I’ll just get a separate motel room.”

“Dean, no…”

“That way, you can lock your door, and not worry that I’m gonna climb into your bed some night…”

“Stop it, Dean, c’mon.”

“In fact, we don’t even have to be together during the day, either, if you don’t want. We can just discuss business over our cell phones from now on.”

“Dean, stop it, that isn’t what I want…” Sam frowns. “It isn’t just what the demon is saying. I’m sensing something about… you. I can’t help it.”

“What, so now you’re gonna go all ‘Twilight Zone’ on me, is that it? If you couldn’t even sense demonic energy that first night the bastard came to you, how the hell can you trust all this ESP crap now?”

“I can’t. Not for sure. But, Dean, I _can_ tell there’s something you’re not telling me right now.”

“Hell, there’s a lotta things I’m not telling you right now! And a lot of things I never _will_ tell you.”

“Dean, what the demon said, is true – an incubus is irrevocably drawn to unrequited love… and sexual frustration…”

“Sexual fr– ? Is that what this is about? What, you think I’m just sitting around fantasizing about you and pining over you all the time? Well, I hate to break the news to you, Sammy, but I’m not celibate, waiting around like some little fan-chick for you to fall into my arms. I’ve had a lot of girls in a lot of towns.”

“I know that.”

“In fact, tonight at the diner, that waitress across the room – that blonde who was lettin’ it all hang out – she was checking me out the whole time we were there.”

“I saw her.”

“Yeah, well, tomorrow, I just may check out a little action myself.”

Sam shrugged. “Go right ahead.”

“Y’know, if anyone’s got issues with unrequited love and sexual frustration around here, it’s you, with Jessica.”

The sudden sting makes Sam frown. “I miss her… like hell, Dean. But I don’t feel unrequited or unfulfilled. Besides, the demon didn’t come to me as Jess. He came as you.”

“Yeah, well, if he’d come as Jess, you would’a known right away that it was a ghost or a demon or something. Or I dunno, maybe it can’t turn into a girl. Y’know, you’re the one anyway who attracted the demon – not me. You have more trouble than me resisting him, and you keep having wet dreams over my look-alike. So maybe _you’re_ the one who has feelings about _me_ – not the other way around. How about that?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Well, maybe you’re just subconsciously blocking them. Or maybe you’re attracting a sex demon because you’re so sexually repressed.”

“I’m not sexually repressed, Dean.”

“What, Jessica’s the only person you’ve ever done it with, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you haven’t had anyone since her – I know, ‘cause you’ve been with me every day. But even before her, in high school, you never even fooled around with anyone?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s my point. That’s why the bastard keeps coming to you.”

“He keeps coming to you, too,” Sam reminds.

But Dean ignores him. “I’d say you need a little release in your life, Sammy boy. Maybe that chick at the diner has a sister or a friend or a cousin she can fix you up with, and we can both get a little recreation tomorrow. That’ll mess with that fucker’s head.”

“I’m not interested. You go ahead if you want.”

“See, that’s your problem, dude. That isn’t normal.”

Sam just looks away, shrugs, shakes his head. “Whatever.” Then he opens up his lap-top and buries himself in research.

Dean goes outside to take some deep breaths and clear his head.

 

_leave me go, turn and walk away,_

_turn your back on me._

_If you stay,_

_there’s just one thing that I’ve got to say:_

_just don’t lie to me_

_don’t treat me like a fool_

_just don’t lie to me,_

_like the way you used to do_

* * * * *

_to be continued…_

 

_acknowledgements:    “Don’t Lie to Me”_

_– Dokken, Under Lock and Key   (1985)_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam finally figures out why all their demon-slaying techniques haven’t worked on this demon. And he guesses what might work. However… the procedure to destroy a sex-demon just might require more than the demon hunters are willing to engage in – or not ???

When Dean comes back, he takes a breath and apologizes, “Look, man, I’m sorry for the things I said – especially about Jess. I know I say some stupid things now and then…” – Sam shoots an ironic sideways glance at him – “but I didn’t mean to bad-mouth you and her…”

Sam nods noncommittally, returns his attention to the lap-top.

“Y’know, Sam,” Dean continues, “you’ve asked me before if this job bothers me. And I’ve told you that – for the most part – I’ve learned not to let it get to me. But there’s one thing that really scares me. And that’s if anything happened…” – another deep breath – “… to separate us.”

“You mean like kill one of us?” Sam speaks unspoken words.

Dean has to admit, “Yeah, like kill one of us. But besides that, I mean like now, Sam. Any of these things we hunt – please don’t give them power like that over us, to make us fight – to split us up. Don’t let this bastard take my brother away from me. Please, Sam.”

Sam shrugs, manages a little neutral smile. “I thought you didn’t like chick-flick moments.”

Dean frowns. “Yeah, well… I don’t.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you do.”

“Smart ass.”

“Really, Dean, I promise not to tell anyone.”

“Great, I got my smart-mouth brother back. Now, use that mouth and start tellin’ me you’ve come up with a plan to send this thing back to hell. Because so far, we’re battin’ zero.”

“Well, I finally discovered why the cross and the exorcism and the rest didn’t work.”

“I’m all ears.”

“It’s because all these things are based on Judeo-Christian concepts, like the Kabbala or basic Western mysticism and demonology. But this demon…”

“… isn’t part of the Judeo-Christian demonic hierarchy.”

“Exactly.”

“Then what is he?”

“I think he’s Japanese. Listen to this:” Sam reads from the lap-top. “In Japan, an incubus – or more accurately, a succubus – is called a ‘yasha’, which, roughly translated, means ‘female night demon’. There is a rare male version. But more than that, there’s a special powerful male variety called a ‘shirogane’. ‘Shirogane’ means ‘silver’ in Japanese.”

Dean releases a small whistle. “That would fit.”

Sam continues. “For one thing, he can absorb energy from silver – it’s like he _is_ silver, personified. That’s why the silver bullets and the silver cross, instead of destroying him, actually gave him a little power-boost. And remember he said he found us interesting because we’re demon-hunters, yet he knew we had no way of stopping him?”

“Yeah – because everything we tried on him is Western-based.”

“And how he mentioned that for the last several hundred years, he’s been free here to hunt all he wanted? Like a transplanted species that has no natural predators, and is free to run rampant, he’s survived great since he came over here from Japan several centuries ago.”

“Because there aren’t a whole lot of mystical Japanese monks over here who would recognize him for what he was and be able to stop him.”

“Right.”

“So how does someone stop him?”

“Well, a monk writes a spell on a strip of paper. He confronts the demon, says certain ritualistic phrases and hurls the paper onto the thing. It seals the bastard, or sends it to hell, or whatever the spell says.”

“Well then, let’s do it, c’mon.”

“Dean, the ritual and the seal have to be done in Japanese. Can you speak or write Japanese?”

“Oh.” That pulls Dean up short. “No.” He looks up at his brother. “Can you?”

“No.”

“Didn’t you learn anything useful at school, college boy?”

“I didn’t think to major in Japanese. Sorry.”

Dean makes a frustrated face. “Yeah… Hey, look, why don’t we just have the computer print the seal for us? That oughtta be easy.”

“It doesn’t work that way – it has to be done by hand. As the monk writes the spell, the words become imbued with his spiritual energy. Same with the ritual – it has to be spoken aloud in order to have mystical power.”

They find some reference material on the internet; however, most of it is in Japanese. They’re finally able to get the computer to translate, but it’s a lot to read in a short time, and the translation is often inaccurate and incomplete, so it’s real slow going. Dean asks if Sam has found a specific exorcism ritual yet, but Sam says no.

He finally does find a picture of an appropriate seal, though, and practices drawing the symbols properly, with both of them comparing to the picture and noting errors in his renderings of the kanji. It must be perfectly accurate – an extra dot or the wrong slant to a line would change the meaning and render it useless.

* * * * *

Later on, Sam brings up the touchy subject again, asks Dean about the remark he made to the demon, saying he would never do anything to Sam against Sam’s will – implying that if it _wasn’t_ against Sam’s will…?

“Dean, we’ve got to talk about this. You’ve got to tell me the truth now.”

“Oh, not that again! Get off it, Sam!”

“We have to talk, Dean – we have to. You’ve got to tell me if you have… physical feelings for me.”

“Why? You’re obviously so convinced that I do, that what I say doesn’t mean shit. So, why even ask?”

“Because I don’t think we can defeat this thing as long as there are secrets like that between us. I think you accidentally attracted it while you were… thinking about me. But unless you… admit to it, we can’t deal with it.”

“So, it’s my fault now, huh, this whole mess? Thanks a lot, Dr. Freud.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Dean. I just know that unfulfilled sexual yearnings are the strongest attractions for incubi and succubae. And the fact that it won’t leave us alone – something is keeping it interested in us. It has to be you, Dean. I know I didn’t do anything to bring it to us.”

“It said it was interested in us because we’re demon-hunters.”

“No – that might have piqued its curiosity, but an incubus can only truly be attracted to sexual energy. You know that.”

”I’ve never screwed a guy in my life! Why the hell would I suddenly want you… like that?”

“I don’t know, Dean, you tell me!”

“Look, that… thing is messing with your ESP – it’s making you think things about me that aren’t true.”

“No – that’s not it. Oh, hell, we’re getting nowhere with this discussion.”

For a long time, Dean says nothing. “Okay, so, what if I said I did… have thoughts… like that… about you? What is my admitting that supposed to accomplish – besides making you puke in disgust?”

“Dean, I’m not interested, but I’m not horrified either.”

“Well, you should be. We’re two guys – not to mention, brothers. You should be disgusted.”

Sam just shakes his head. “From what I’ve been reading… and what we already know about sex demons, an incubus can’t harm people who are strongly in love – physically – with each other.”

“Then what you’re suggesting is… that to defeat this bastard, we need to get down and dirty – is that it?”

Sam can only shrug. “I… don’t know, Dean… maybe.”

“Shit… Well, then it still won’t do any good. Because you don’t feel that way about me.” Pain tightens Dean’s eyes, and he looks down, lips set. “There – there’s your answer. So, what d’ya think of that? Your big brother has sick fantasies about you. Are you happy now?”

“Dean…”

“Go ahead – hate me, kick me out, whatever.” He glances back to see Sam watching him with frowning concern. “Don’t look at me like that. You wanna leave – go on, get outta here.”

“I’m not leaving, Dean.”

“Don’t patronize me, Sam. You must think I’m lower than shit.”

“I’m not leaving,” Sam reiterates steadily. “And I don’t think anything like that of you.”

A humorless snort. “Yeah – right.”

* * * * *

_to be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the demon corners Dean alone, beats him viciously and rapes him savagely, until Sam bursts in on them, ready and armed to kill…

Later, Sam does leave the cabin, goes off into the woods to think.

After a while, Sam returns. Dean starts apologizing profusely… and then belatedly realizes his mistake – the same mistake Sam made earlier.

It’s not his brother.

Dean tries to fight it, but it’s stronger, and wrests him down on the bed harshly.

Dean is bound magically. The creature is hungry now, and through toying with them.

Wearing Sam’s visage, he’s going to rape Dean and drain his life force. Then when Sam comes back, he’s going to seduce him so intensely, as Dean, that Sam will have no will of his own to resist, and he’s going to give in, and then the demon will screw him to death, too, but in ecstasy. “I can create sexual pleasure… or sexual pain,” the thing reminds. “So you see, the difference is, he’ll enjoy it to the end. You – on the other hand – won’t.”

Dean scowls. “If you’re gonna do it, at least have the guts to look like yourself. Don’t hide behind someone else’s face!”

“But it’s better this way,” the demon-Sam insists. “So much better.” And he slaps Dean roughly across the face. Dean’s head snaps back, and he tastes the iron tinge of blood.

“Besides, you like this face, don’t you? You dream about kissing him, taking him…” it mocks. “You know, your brother is as sweet and tasty as you fantasize – it’s a shame you’ll never get the chance to screw around with him. When he thought I was you, he was a complete little slut under my hands. He begged me for more.”

“Fuck you,” Dean snaps.

“No – fuck you!”

Another hard slap. Dean cringes, his cheeks burning hotly. Another. Dean is panting for air. Blood drips from his nose and split lip.

“Freakin’ pervert!”

“Pervert?” the pseudo-Sam queries with a quirk of a challenging smile. “You’re lusting after your own brother – your little brother whom you swore to protect – and _I’m_ the freaking pervert?”

Angry tears well in Dean’s eyes. The truth of the words twists his gut.

“No matter,” the demon shrugs, a taunting smile lighting up silver eyes. “Because your little brother lusts for you too.”

“No!”

“Why do you continue to refuse to believe?” Dragging him off the bed, the demon slams him up against the wall. A tight fist to the gut. Dean gags and doubles over, breath choked off, before being slammed up roughly again, t-shirt twisted in the creature’s grip.

Silver eyes flash in an amused grin. “He’s so hot for you. Let me show you.”

A rough hand grips Dean’s jaw, a tongue forces its way into his mouth, lips come down on his, a brutal lust-filled kiss, teeth bite his lower lip, drawing more blood. The tongue invades again, plays with his own, then forces partway down his throat. Dean spasms, tries to wrestle away, but can’t. Finally the fake Sam pulls back, bloody saliva glistening his lips, grinning at Dean. Dean is panting, spit and blood drooling down his chin.

Without warning, a knee jerks into his groin. Dean howls. Lightning pain shoots all the way to the top of his head. Another, that lifts him to tip-toes, pulls a groan from his throat, tears rolling down his cheeks, every nerve in his body shrieking. His stomach heaves, threatens to vomit. He’s gasping for breath, each heart-beat throbbing pain through his whole being.

Again a brutal kiss that violates his mouth. Tight lips close to his ear. “You really like this, don’t you? You secretly like it rough. Maybe you’ll enjoy this after all.”

Dull eyes look up. He feels raped already. He finds enough voice to rasp hoarsely, “Sonofabitch…!”

Another, right to the crotch. This time, Dean does vomit all down the front of himself, helplessly, knees buckle, body limp with mindless pain. The demon shoves Dean back up against the wall again, then rips the soiled shirt off him, tosses it away. Dean starts to slide down the wall, legs like jello.

“Human shit,” the demon swears blandly. Then getting down to business, he unbuckles Dean’s belt and yanks it out of the belt loops, then pulls Dean’s jeans and undershorts down, before shoving him down to the ground. Then doubling the belt in his hands, he allows a lingering gaze of the helpless body before him.

Dean is sick, coughing, drooling. He spits out some more sour mess. Stiffly, slowly, awkwardly, fighting the pain and the magical bonds, he gradually draws his elbows and knees under himself, realizing too late that that puts his naked butt in full view of his tormentor. Dully he glares back at the figure over him, almost as though daring him to do it.

The fake Sam considers it, but then tosses the belt aside. “Maybe later,” he decides. “Maybe after I fuck you the first time, we’ll play a little, while we wait for your brother to return.” At that, he unzips his pants, pulls his equipment out for Dean to see. The organs are hard and ready.

Dean stares, gulps hard. He’s seen them before, but it’s still unnerving. Yet the sight also magically compels a crude jolt of desire through his injured genitals. More pain tears leak from the corners of Dean’s eyes and roll down his face.

The demon with Sam’s face promises, “We’re going make a night of it. When your brother gets back, I’m going to let him watch what I do to you.”

Dean sneers weakly, sniffs back blood, forces a gritty voice. “When my brother gets back… he’s gonna send you to fucking hell!”

Ignoring the threat, the creature kneels beside Dean’s squirming body. “And then I’ll take him in front of you. You’ll get to watch, before I kill both of you.” A wet tongue sensually traces the curve of Dean’s ear. “You like this, don’t you? You wish Sam was really here doing this to you, don’t you?”

“Liar! Goddamn… fucking liar! Don’t… mention his name… with your filthy mouth!” He’s crying, and can’t stop – his balls hurt so bad.

Demonic voice turns low and seductive. “Think of Sam touching you… like this…” And saying so, the thing lays one hand on Dean’s ass, making Dean writhe, then with the other, shoves a finger up inside.

Dean yells. Yet the digital probing sets off sparks of erotic sensation through his nerves, and his wounded genitals respond despite themselves,

“You’re virgin up in here, aren’t you? Never been touched like this before by another man. But you always dreamed that one day Sam might do this to you.”

Words spat out between clenched teeth. “Stop saying his name!” Yet even as he fights, his body gives in to the tingling pleasure within, attempting to work itself deeper on the invading finger, anus clenching and relaxing, clenching and relaxing.

But then another finger stretches the tender hole, jolting a spear of pain through the pleasure haze. Dean shudders, jaw tense, neck muscles prominent. Without warning, the fingers touch something deep inside and for a moment massage the secret place, magnifying the sensation ten-fold. An intense wave flashes right up to his solar plexus and out all his nerves, white light explodes behind his eyeballs, and a painful jolt of semen gushes out. An instant of massive pleasure intermingles with pain, as a gurgling moan rasps from Dean’s throat. But then the fingers continue to prod the secret place hard, twisting and pinching and pressing, and the pleasure mutates to vicious pain. Dean writhes desperately, a hoarse scream tearing his throat.

When Dean can hardly stand another moment of the torture, the demon pulls his fingers out, only to announce: “But what you really want is this…!” And so saying, he shoves his cock right back up the sore channel, and starts to work hard.

Another roar of pain, tears running down his cheeks. Dean can only endure as his body is rocked vigorously, each thrust a lightning jolt.

The door slams open. Sam bursts in. Determination glows in his eyes. He has resolved to do what needs to be done.

He’s holding a strip of paper upon which the spell has been painstakingly transcribed.

Holding the paper up, face serious and taut, he pronounces the demon’s name and the spell: “Yasha no Shirogane, watakushi no iu koto ni shite fukujû shiyô!”

That snaps the demon to serious attention at last, intense surprise twisting his face, and he rises from Dean’s body, snarling, to face Sam, silver fire blazing in his eyes. “So you figured out what I am.” Now his form loses its solidity, shimmers between Sam’s image, and Dean’s, and his own, until his own finally re-materializes.

“ _Onore…!_ ” he growls, an inhuman roar, tries to lunge at Sam, yet doesn’t seem to be able to. Something is sapping his strength. _“Omae wa mohaya tanoshikunai!”_

Dean is curled up on the floor, watching through bleary eyes.

Sam doesn’t back down, but stands his ground against the menacing seven-foot figure. “Kono hito ga watakushi no koibito de watakushi wa kare no desu! Watakushi-tachi o shoyû shimasen!”

**_“KISAMA…!”_ **

“Soshite, Yasha no Shirogane ni in o oshimasu!” And with that, Sam hurls the piece of paper toward the demon. Magically the paper flies directly at the demon’s forehead, and sticks there, as if glued.

At that, the demon screams rage, **_“Iya da!”_** and stiffens as if run through, electricity crackling in silver eyes, silver tresses fanning out as if caught by static electricity. **_“Iya daaa!”_** He writhes, gradually dissipating into shimmering smoke. Then with a wail, he finally wisps away in a silver mist.

Sam drops to his knees, and Dean whimpers his own pain, sweaty and bloody. Finally Sam crawls over to his brother, eyes moist, touches with trembling fingers. “Dean, oh god Dean, I’m so sorry, talk to me… Dean…!”

Despite the pain, Dean manages a gasp through gritted teeth, “I’ll survive.” Carefully cupping his wounded genitals, he curls up. Another wince, then a sudden spasm. “God, I’m gonna puke again…!” and he does.

Sam cradles his brother’s head, worriedly examining the blood and bruises with light caressing fingers, ignoring the mess spattering both of them.

“Help me up,” Dean grunts a whisper.

Carefully Sam steadies Dean’s hunched-over limp trembling body, as he barely shuffle-crawls over to the bed, then helps him lie down. Again Dean curls up. Sam goes to the kitchen, then returns with some ice rolled in a towel for Dean to hold against his swollen genitals, and a wet washcloth to clean off the blood and vomit. Then he goes to brew a cup of the holy-water coffee.

Revived, and pain muted, Dean notes, “So, you did… find the right exorcism… after all. What’d you say?”

“I called him by name and told him to hear and obey me, and I said, ‘This man is my lover, and I am his, so you cannot have either of us. And with this, I seal you, Shirogane Yasha!’. And then I threw the seal at him, and that was that.”

Dean looks at him, the significance of the words sinking in.

* * * * *

_to be continued…_

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam exorcised the demon by announcing to it that he and Dean were lovers. So now Dean wonders… did Sam just say that to get rid of the incubus… or just possibly… did he really mean it… ??

A few days (that is, nights!) later, after Dean’s pain has receded to manageable levels:

Dean is asleep, snoring lightly. Sam is awake, resting in bed, listening to him for a long while.

Finally he gets out of bed and kneels beside Dean’s bed, touches his arm. For a moment he says nothing, watching him in a shaft of moonlight, running his fingers tentatively over the smooth lightly-haired skin, tracing vein ridges. He licks his lips, hardly daring to make a sound, stealing this moment for himself, before finally speaking his brother’s name aloud. “Dean.”

The sleeping form stirs slightly.

“Dean. Wake up.”

Again Dean stirs, then starts awake. A moment’s disorientation, as he stares at the figure over him, then stiffens abruptly, head raises from the pillow. “You’re back! What the hell…!”

Sam takes his shoulders. “No – no, Dean, it’s me, it’s not the incubus.”

“Yeah, that’s you always say, when you try to seduce me, you demon sonofabitch.” However, Dean obviously isn’t fighting to get away.

“But this time, it really is me, Dean. Look – no silver aura. The demon’s gone.”

Dean pins him with a stare, then glances across at Sam’s bed to see if the real Sam is still lying there. But there is no other. Only the one in front of him, touching him.

He blinks sleepy eyes. “So… what d’ya want?”

Another tiny lick of lips, then Sam looks directly at him. “I want you, Dean. As much as you want me. So, if you’ll just say yes…” Sam’s thumb caresses bare skin, “… we can do something about it.”

“What?” Dean blinks, looks him over, and for a moment says nothing. “You don’t have to keep up the pretense, Sam. The ritual’s over.”

“It’s not a pretense. I told you. I just realized… that it was real for me too, Dean.”

“You didn’t want to yesterday.”

“I changed my mind.”

“What, you just decided two minutes ago that you wanted to fool around with your brother, after all?” Dean looks away, shakes his head.

Sam queries, “So what’s wrong with that?”

Rare emotional pain burns in Dean’s eyes. “It isn’t some spur-of-the-moment thing, Sam…”

“It can be. What made you realize you wanted me? There must have been something, some time that made you suddenly see me differently than before.”

“Yeah – two years ago, when you and Dad fought, and you walked out… and I didn’t know when – if – I’d see you again. And I… knew I wanted you… in a way I’d never wanted you before.”

“Well, I’m here now, Dean. And… two minutes – two years – it doesn’t matter.” Sam leans close, and for the first time their lips touch lightly. For a long moment they taste each other, neither presuming to force it into some hard powerful sensual experience – just a tentative testing, breath trembling slightly, arousal stinging genitals awake.

Until the kiss finally breaks, and they grin a little at each other, both excited and uncertain. Sam teases, “You do still want me, don’t you?”

A quirk of head, and Dean glances down. “Mm… Damn.” Tongue-tip licks a trace of his brother’s essence on his lips. “You, uh, sure know how to… uh…”

Adrenalin rush is quivering Sam’s breath. “God, Dean, say yes. That’s all – just yes.”

Dean looks up at him. “Nervous, huh?”

Sam grins, releases a taut breath. “A little.”

“A lot,” Dean suggests, twinkle in the eye.

“A little,” Sam corrects.

“Sure,” Dean agrees.

“Friggin’ jerk,” Sam pronounces.

“Who’s a friggin’ jerk?”

“You are – playing hard to get now.”

“Me, playing hard to get?”

“Yes.”

“I never play hard to get when getting laid in involved.”

Sam’s fingertips caress up and down bare arms, explore shoulder blades, collarbones, attention fascinated by Dean’s smooth skin. A murmur. “What do you want, Dean? Tell me.”

Dean allows the exploration, but cautions, “Y’know, this is probably just some psychic garbage left over from what that thing did to you.”

“No… no, it’s not.”

Dean takes the opportunity himself to reach over to touch his brother as well, slipping fingers up Sam’s arms, up under the t-shirt sleeves. “What I _don’t_ want is you doing this out of some frickin’ sense of duty, or pity, or somethin’.”

Again Sam leans in for a kiss, this time more firmly, more sure. Tongues lick, taste each other, before the kiss separates again. Sam looks directly at his brother. “I’m doing it,” he assures simply, “because I want to.”

Dean’s gaze flickers from questioning green eyes to moist lips, back to green eyes, his own breath uncertain. “Damn…!” Under the covers, his hips shift a little to relieve the sudden binding of his pajama shorts. “Never could resist that puppy-dog look of yours.”

“Say yes, Dean.”

“Oh god Sam…”

“No, not ‘oh god Sam’. ‘Yes’. Just ‘yes’.”

A tiny side-smile. “Oh, what, you want a commitment, is that it?”

Sam gives a little noncommittal shrug. “No.”

“… jeez, next you’ll be wantin’ a ring or somethin’.”

“I don’t want a ring, you dick.”

“… or hey maybe that’s what this is all about – you just wanna get me naked so you can compare my dick to the doppelgänger’s, huh?”

A wistful haze in Sam’s eyes can’t dim a teasing twinkle. “Mm! – man, he sure was hung …!”

Dean looks taken aback, but only for a moment, before riposting, “Yeah… Y’know, when he was you, he used to do this hot little… maneuver… hey, you think maybe you could, uh, sometime maybe…”

“Shut up, you prick,” Sam counters benignly.

Dean grins. “You want my prick, don’t you? Tell me you want it.”

“Yeah… I want your prick… and your ass…”

“Ooh, you’re gonna get nasty right away… little miss prim-and-proper. I dunno, Sammy…”

“If you think I’m little miss prim-and-proper, you’re gonna learn a thing or two about your little brother. I’m not all bookworm-geek boy. And besides…”

“Yes.”

“Huh?”

“I said ‘yes’, Sam.” Dean looks at his brother, tug of lips. “That’s what you asked for. I’m all yours. You want me, you got me. I surrender.”

“It’s you who wants me,” Sam reminds. “If you remember, that’s what got us into this problem in the first place.”

“Oh, admit it, Sammy, you had the hots for me too, all this time. Yeah, well, all right, you talked me into it, let’s get down and nasty. Hell, I’ll even buy the ring, make it legal.”

“I said I don’t need a ring. And there’s nothing legal about this, you dip-stick. In case you hadn't noticed, we’re committing incest.”

“So, you gonna arrest me, officer? lock me in handcuffs?”

“You’d probably like that, wouldn’t you? Jeez, what a perv.”

“Well, why don’t you show me just how pervy _you_ can get?”

With a moan, Sam climbs onto the bed, on top of Dean, knees straddling each other’s. “Why don’t you just shut up, Dean… and show me what else you can do with that mouth?”

“Mm, a control freak, too. You’re gonna boss me around?… make me do whatever you want…”

“I’m gonna do this…” Sam informs, as mouths quickly rediscover the interrupted kiss.

And this time it goes way beyond tentative, lips demanding, tongues intruding, invading, trying to go down hot willing throats.

At the same time, genitals mutually rub against thighs, Sam’s pelvis starts humping Dean’s leg. Feverishly Dean reaches down to grasp those hips, fingers digging into lean buttocks, helping the situation along.

Pajamas are forgotten on the floor.

Dean is so tentative, hesitant, staring at Sam’s body, at his genitals, hardly daring to touch, that Sam has to remind, “Dude, I’m not made of glass – I’m not going to shatter.”

“I know.”

“Y’know, we’ve lived together most of our lives, so you _have_ seen me naked before.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never actually, y’know, _seen_ you naked before.”

“You were gonna go spend the night with that waitress – you wouldn’t be this hesitant with her.”

“That’s entirely different, just a little R & R – not the same thing at all.”

“Hey, can it be you’re the one talking commitment here? – my brother, love-‘em-and-leave-‘em Dean Winchester?”

Dean tosses a wry side-long glance. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

“You do know you’re acting like a freakin’ virgin, don’t you?”

At that, Dean looks up to meet Sam’s direct gaze. “Screw you.”

An amused glint twinkles in Sam’s eyes. “I sure hope so.”

Sam takes Dean’s ass first, to let Dean know that little brother is not as _uke_ as Dean would like to assume.

“Uh, Dean, you do realize when Dad finds out, he’s gonna kill us – ”

“ – _if_ Dad finds out – ”

“ – _when_ Dad finds out…. We won’t even need to worry about some demon taking us down.”

“Damn… you’re one hot little piece of…”

“I told you – your little brother’s no ‘little miss prim-and-proper…’ ”

“Are you sure you’re really my brother now?”

“As real as can be.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know my little brother was such a slut.”

“Well, I didn’t know my big brother had the hots for me all this time. I can’t believe you actually ran off the road just because you were thinking dirty thoughts about me.”

“Hey, that sonofabitch put those thoughts in my head,” Dean protests defensively.

“… yeah, right…”

“... well, anyway, it was ‘cause of him I ran off the road.”

“Sure, whatever,” Sam grins. “DUI-I – driving under the influence of an incubus,” and chuckles at his own joke.

“Funny.” Dean pouts a wry moue. “What, you think I can’t control myself?”

Provocatively Sam licks Dean’s lips, murmurs seductively, “I want to see you lose control. And I wanna be the one to do it.”

 

_clouds roll by as I look at the sky,_

_and then the feeling comes, it comes on again_

_you know desire burns like a fire, fire of sin_

_oh, will I ever learn_

_you’re the only one_

_but then the shadows fall and I’m gone again_

_I’m a hunter_

_searching for love_

_on these lonely streets again_

_I’m the hunter_

_searching for the things_

_that I might never find again._

 

 * * * * *  **FINIS**   * * * * * 

_acknowledgements:     “Jaded Heart”_

_“In My Dreams”_

_“Don’t Lie to Me”_

_“The Hunter”_

_– Dokken, Under Lock and Key   (1985)_


End file.
